


SAW 2021 Collection

by MizJoely



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, SAW 2021, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-20 21:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: My contributions for Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2021
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 23
Kudos: 41
Collections: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2021





	1. Coat Flip. Hair Ruffle - Riding Crop?

_Rating: Light T_

* * *

He came swaggering into the fourth floor lab as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if he hadn't just jumped off the roof of St. Bart's and faked his own death - with her assistance! - in order to save the lives of his three dearest friends.

"What?" he said, stopping short as she stood in front of him, hands on her hips. "I told you I'd see you before I left-"

"At my flat!" she hissed, staring wildly around the room, half-expecting police and doctors and John bloody Watson to come storming in after him. "Not here, where anyone can see you! You might as well have, have swung in through the window attached to a bungee cord, you drama queen! Do you not know how to do subtle, to do unobtrusive?"

"Unnecessary," he scoffed. "Half the hospital is either down on the pavement or outside the morgue, not up here." He stepped closer; Molly found herself nervously twisting her hands together as he loomed over her. "It's the perfect place to wait for Mycroft to arrange my extraction, and you know it. Especially," he added, his voice dropping to a low register that sent prickles of desire up her spine, "since this lab is officially closed for repairs at the moment. It's why you chose to watch from here, is it not?"

It was, not that Molly was going to deny it; instead of replying she shot back a question of her own. "So what now, Sherlock?" Rather daringly, she laid a hand on his chest, toyed with the button to his Belstaff. "Any plans on how we should pass the time while we wait for your brother?"

Sherlock's lip curled in a slow, sensuous smile as he yanked her closer, tilting her head up and lowering his own so his lips hovered over hers. "He'll be a good hour," he replied lowly. "As for how we'll pass the time…" The smile deepened, darkened as he crushed his lips against her in a toe-curling, spine-tingling kiss. "Let's start with the riding crop."


	2. Let's Start With The Hair Ruffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I brought the riding crop to the hair ruffle scene, and now I present the hair ruffle in the riding crop scene. Hope you enjoy this new mashup for Sherlolly Appreciation Week!

He unzips the body bag, bending over it to get a good look (or sniff, she's not sure which, and his next question certainly doesn't help). "How fresh?"

She moves closer, smiling and hoping she doesn't look nervous; he always has that effect on her. "Just in. Sixty-seven, natural causes. He used to work here. I knew him. He was nice."

The smile he gives her is patently false, but she ignores that; she's a woman on a mission today and she won't let her nerves get the better of her.

After he's beaten the corpse with a riding crop, misunderstood her request for a coffee date as asking him for his order (what does she look like, a barista?); after she's brought him his damned coffee and been told her lips are too small without the lipstick she's wiped off - after all that, she's back in the mortuary, mournfully staring down into her own tepid cuppa when the doors burst open. It's Sherlock, of course it is; he's the only one who habitually bursts into rooms.

She starts to rise, pauses and stares as he pops the collar of his coat (a Belstaff, bespoke or at least tailored after purchase because she's never seen one with a red buttonhole before), then reaches up and ruffles the luscious curls that bedeck his (oversized, she's not feeling particularly nice right now) head, and looks around. Spots her at the counter. Strides over. Takes her hands. Pulls her to her feet.

Lays those enormous paws of his on either side of her face and lays one of the most intense, satisfying kisses she's ever received on her.

Startled, she takes a moment to respond, but when she does - oh my! They kiss and kiss, her hands caressing his jawline, his fingers cradling her scalp, their mouths (lips, tongues, oh God, tongues!) almost melding together in the searing heat of the moment.

The moment passes, sadly, as all such moments do; she braces herself for him to say something awful, or to ask whatever it is he's come to ask of her (as if she'd turn him down for anything after those kisses!). Braces herself for the inevitable cold brushoff. "Forgot my riding crop," he announces, swiping it from the counter and holding it up as if presenting it as evidence.

Her shoulders slump; did he seriously just snog the life out of her because of his stupid riding crop? Wait, no, that doesn't make any sense; it's HIS riding crop, he doesn't need to sweet talk (or snog!) her to get access to it. So why, then…?

"I've just met my new flatmate," he says casually as he swishes the crop through the air with almost as much vigor as he used when he'd cropped the hell out of her former co-worker. "The address is 221B Baker Street. Once he's moved in we'll have to be discreet, of course, but tonight-" He smiles at her, a genuine smile that makes her toes curl and heat pool low in her belly. "Tonight, Molly Hooper, we can christen just about any surface you prefer."

He swoops in for another kiss. "I'll see you at half-seven, be sure to bring a sleepover bag with whatever you'll need but definitely not pyjamas." He winks, pops his collar, and strides out through the doors, the crop tucked under one arm. He pauses, turns back to look at her, and vanishes down the hall.

And Molly Hooper hugs herself in silent glee.


End file.
